


House Hunting

by Spiral_Rush



Series: House [1]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Home, Orphans, References to M/M/F, References to PTSD, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21523210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiral_Rush/pseuds/Spiral_Rush
Summary: Billy Russo has everything except a place to call home.***People said you don’t miss what you never had. But Billy wasn’t so sure about that.
Relationships: Billy Russo & Curtis Hoyle, Maria Castle/Billy Russo
Series: House [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565953
Kudos: 11
Collections: Fortune Favors: Round One— Rider-Waite-Smith





	House Hunting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Fortune Favors, A Tarot Inspired Fest](https://fortune-favors.dreamwidth.org/) November 2019.
> 
> Prompt Cards: 4 of Cups Reversed, Temperance Reversed, Death Reversed
> 
> Deck: Rider-Waite-Smith
> 
> References to unresolved sexual tension between Maria/Billy and the possibility of Frank/Maria/Billy.

Billy had dozed off on the couch in his office when a text message alert woke him up. It was Maria inviting him to come over for dinner on Sunday. 

He rubbed his eyes and processed the time, almost nine o'clock. Two hours ago, he'd sat down to read a report on Anvil's latest activity in Kandahar and fallen asleep. Between running errands for Agent Orange and needing to monitor situations at all hours in Afghanistan, he'd had way too many nights in a row of staying up until dawn. Billy was _not_ in his twenties anymore and this was starting to wear on him.

Before he collected himself enough to reply, another message arrived. _I know you're a very busy important big shot these days but it's been almost a month since we've seen you._

Had it really been that long? Billy smiled slightly at the teasing -- from anyone else, it would have annoyed him -- and asked, _What time Sunday?_

After that was settled, he got another text. This one made him shake his head. Recently, Maria had started sending him real estate listings, the weirdest ones she could find. With a sense of morbid curiosity, Billy clicked the link. 

He was confronted with a house that looked like it had been co-owned by Liberace and a wedding obsessed serial killer. There was a rhinestone covered fireplace, a snow-white bedroom carpet best described as "long-haired," and three pastel pianos, one pink, one blue, one green. The thing that crossed the line from bizarre to disturbing was a life-size mannequin wearing a bridal gown in every room, even the bathrooms. Billy sent back a puking emoji.

The last place Maria sent him had featured a BDSM dungeon in the basement (which, he admitted, he'd been kind of impressed by). Now she'd managed to outdo that.

The listings were a joke, mostly. Maria thought it was odd that Billy had been back in the city for almost a year and hadn't found somewhere to live yet. (She didn't know that Agent Orange -- Billy knew the man's name now but still thought of him that way -- had offered him an apartment. And it was great: already furnished, view of the Hudson River, abstract art on the walls. He declined. The certainty of there being listening devices all over it was only part of the reason.) But the listings were also a reminder that he couldn't keep living out of hotel rooms and his office for the rest of his life.

Billy had been looking. He'd talked to a realtor, toured a bunch of condos in SoHo and Tribeca and Flatiron, places that boasted about being close to "attractions and entertainment." He quickly learned that meant fancy coffee shops, hipster brewpubs, and sorry excuses for "nightlife" where you drank overpriced cocktails with a bunch of uptight snobs. The kind of places that appealed to people who moved to New York because they wanted to live in an exciting city and moved out after a few years because it was _too_ exciting.

And these condos were as expensive as _hell_. When the money started coming in Billy went a bit crazy and spent 300 grand on a car but he didn't have to take out a loan to do it. So he didn't buy anything. (He did sleep with the real estate agent. She was beautiful, smart, and a little kinky, so it had been fun.) He never intended to stay overnight in his office as often as he did. It started as crashing on the couch occasionally when he was too tired to go to a hotel. Now, he slept here most nights when he didn't have someone to go home with. (He'd been considering putting a cot in. His back was starting to ache.)

There was one other living arrangement Billy had also refused. Maria had invited him to stay with the Castles.

Over the years, Billy spent most of his leaves with them. He enjoyed it, having a home base with people who met him at the airport with hugs and kisses. But that was for short periods and, most importantly, Frank had always been around. Now, Billy was here while Frank was still over there. Staying with Frank's wife without him for some undetermined amount of time would _not_ end well.

He was attracted to Maria. That by itself wasn't a problem. Of course, if she wasn't interested, nothing would happen. But it wasn't just vanity that made him think Maria was also attracted to him. There were times her friendly hugs and kisses threatened to turn into something else. Billy had sworn he would never do that to Frank so he kept his distance.

Honestly, Billy would jump at the chance to have another threesome with Frank, something they hadn’t done since Maria. He liked her; he really did. She was good to and for Frank. But Billy missed being able to be with a woman and his best friend at the same time. He wondered sometimes if Frank missed that too. Or if Frank dismissed it all as crazy shit he did when he was young and wild.

After a few minutes of silence, Maria messaged again. _That place is a bargain. And you can get rid of the dolls._

He replied, _This feels like the start of a horror movie._

_If you keep being so picky, you're going to end up living in your office._

_I'd rather live here than in a house haunted by Satan's plastic brides._

_Are you still at work?_

_If I'm not working, it's not work._ He added a wink.

_But you're still at the office at 9 on a Friday night._

It was Friday, wasn't it? The week had been crazy and he'd lost track of the days. Billy looked at the report he'd gotten halfway through, currently lying on the couch next to him. His younger self would have been shocked and appalled at staying up all night on the weekend to read _that_. Of course, his younger self had plenty of friends to go out with on a Friday. Billy did love the sex but half the reason he went home with a woman was just not to be alone.

Maria continued, _This is getting to be some weird Phantom of the Opera thing. You skulking around an old building night and day by yourself._

Billy laughed. _Isn't he supposed to be hideously disfigured?_

_You are missing the point._

_Which is?_

He got an eye roll emoji followed by, _Only weirdos live in their offices, Billy._

_As long as I'm a good-looking weirdo._

Maria didn't send any more messages for a while. He wasn't surprised. Her kids frequently interrupted whatever she was doing. Finally, he got another, a face with its tongue sticking out and _See you Sunday at 6:30. Bring a bottle of wine. The good stuff._

He snorted. "The good stuff" meant $20 a bottle instead of $2 a bottle. He wouldn't have minded buying actual expensive wine for her but Maria wouldn't have really enjoyed that. This was less about wine and more another way of her teasing him for having money now, of trying to remind him of who he was. 

The problem was these days he sometimes didn't really know who he was. More and more, he felt like he was playing a role with Maria, with Curt, even with Frank. (Not that they'd seen each other since Billy left the service. They'd just talked the few times Billy had been around when Frank called his family.) He was intentionally playing a role with Agent Orange. Letting a guy like Rawlins get to know you, get in your head, was dangerous. 

But everybody played roles, didn't they? Maria loved her kids but "mother" was a role for her. She acted differently when they weren't around. Curt played the role of counselor and confidante with the vets who came to his group. That didn't mean he didn't truly care about them. And Frank was playing a role, one Billy was very familiar with because he'd played it for years. One that would kill Frank sooner or later if he didn't get a clue and get the hell out. Well, Billy had said his piece about that already. Frank's decisions were his own. 

Billy got up, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and went to the window overlooking the workout area. The night cleaning crew was packing up to leave, several women and a man hauling equipment and supplies out to their van. 

The first time they'd found him sleeping in his office, they'd been freaked out. The door opening had woken him up and for a split second, he was convinced he'd fallen asleep on watch and an insurgent with a bomb had gotten in.

Billy realized where he was and that it was a housekeeper with an ordinary vacuum before he did anything. That was the incident that motivated him to talk to a realtor. But now he and the cleaners stayed out of each other's way, so it was fine. If he wanted his office done, he left the door open and made himself scarce.

He never told Maria or Curt about it. Curt especially would worry unnecessarily. He was already constantly trying to convince Billy to come and talk to his veterans' group. Billy didn't want Curt to start trying to get him to see a psychiatrist.

The last time Billy dropped by with a check, Curt asked if he'd found a place yet. 

Billy sat in one of the empty chairs arranged in a circle for that day's meeting. "I've been looking."

"How long do you plan to keep looking?" Curt took a seat next to him.

"You know what the housing market's like here." Billy shrugged. "If I found a place I like, I'd have to kill three real estate investment buyers to get it."

Curt snorted. "I'm surprised you haven't at least rented something by now."

"Have you seen rents in Manhattan?"

"There are four other boroughs, you know."

"Even from Brooklyn, the commute would be a pain in the ass. And I'm _not_ living in New Jersey."

Curt said, "Billy, how much did you spend on that suit you're wearing? Two grand?" Billy didn't answer. It was actually 2500. "And I bet you didn't blink at the price. But when it comes to rent, you're pinching pennies like Ebenezer Scrooge."

"I only had to pay for this suit once," Billy said. "Why should I pay an outrageous amount of money every month for a place I won't even spend the night in half the time?" He raised his brows and grinned, making it clear why he wouldn't be sleeping there.

Shaking his head, Curt said, "Most guys slow down a bit when they get to be your age."

"I don't need Viagra yet, so..."

Curt laughed. "Seriously, don't you even want somewhere to keep all your stuff?"

"I don't have that much stuff."

"Well, let me know when you do get a place. 'Cause honestly, sometimes I feel a little guilty taking money from a homeless man."

Billy counted to three in his head, then chuckled and said, "I'm not living on the _street_ , Curt."

"You don't need to be physically on the street to be homeless." He had that mild, patient tone that could be really infuriating sometimes. Billy was sure he knew that. Curt continued, "Lots of folks crash with their friends or relatives. Or scrape together enough money to pay for a cheap hotel for a while."

"I'm not exactly scraping money together." Billy gestured towards Curt's shirt pocket, where the edge of the very large check he'd written stuck up.

"That's why I only feel a _little_ guilty," Curt said with a half-smile. "But, really, Billy, do you not feel the need to have a home of your own?"

Billy rubbed his hands together. He may not attend Curt's group but the man couldn't resist counseling him. He said, "I guess one of the reasons I haven't found a place yet is I still can't believe I'm really out for good. Moving in somewhere permanently would be admitting that."

Curt nodded. "You were in the Marines for a long time."

"And before that, you know, I never had a real home anyway." 

"Well, you could have one now."

Billy didn't think it was that simple. He could buy a condo or a co-op or a house, but a _home_ was something else. Frank had one, wherever his wife and kids were. Curt didn't have a spouse or children but he still had a home in the community of veterans he'd built around himself. 

The Corps was the closest thing Billy ever had to a home. And he'd walked away from it. He'd had to-- staying would have killed him and he didn't just mean physically. But how was he supposed to replace it? Well, he'd lived this long without a home. Why worry about it now? 

Curt added, "People are resistant to change, even when it would be good for them."

"You think that's why Frank's still in?" Billy asked. 

"Probably part of it. But you know Frank. It's like he was built to be a Marine."

Nine times out of ten, when the two of them were together, they ended up talking about Frank. It was the same with Maria. 

Billy said, "You know, Maria invited me to stay with them until I find a place of my own. But that would be _weird_." The expression on Curt's face indicated he didn't need an explanation. Pointing at him, Billy added, " _You_ never invited me to stay with you."

Curt leaned back in his chair. "Aw, hell, no, I don't want your crazy ass living in my house."

They both laughed. Honestly, Billy wouldn't want to live with Curt. That would be as weird as living with Maria for different reasons. 

Curtis was the most thoroughly upstanding guy Billy knew. And it was all real, not an act or lip service. Sometimes Curt broke rules, especially if he thought he could help someone, but he never did anything _really_ wrong. As a Corpsman, he'd gone to war and never even killed anyone.

Billy wondered sometimes if Curt would still be friends with either him or Frank if the man knew what they'd done with Cerberus. He suspected the answer might be yes for Frank but no for him. But maybe that was Billy being paranoid.

Finishing his whiskey, Billy watched the cleaning crew lock up. Then he sat on the couch and picked the report up. Curt didn't need to know anything about what was really going on in Afghanistan, then or now.

He'd only read a few more paragraphs when he got another message from Maria. _Lisa and Junior want to tell you: Good night, Uncle Billy._

He smiled slightly. _Good night._

_And stop sleeping in your office. That's from me._

Now Billy was starting to feel defensive. His office was better than a lot of places he'd slept in the past, including the various barracks he'd lived in. What was the big deal about not having a permanent address anyway?

_Yes, ma'am. I will also eat my vegetables and brush my teeth._

He got the emoji with its tongue sticking out again. _I'm just looking out for my husband's wayward brother._

_Your husband's pretty wayward himself._

_I know._

Billy smiled slightly. The thing about conversations like this with Frank's family was that it was a little taste of something _like_ home but not really home, at least not for him. It was like getting his appetite whet for a meal he could only watch someone else eat. 

People said you don't miss what you never had. But Billy wasn't so sure about that.


End file.
